I try not to think of their full implication as well.
Men like Udulf and Lazar are the reason I believe in God. Because if there is a God, there is a Devil. And there must be a Devil, because these men work for him.
“She talks.” Udulf’s shock has worn off. He is delighted at my words.
“I do. And I know why you wanted me dead that night.”
“Which night would that be, nyuszi?” Pavo’s nickname for me rolls out of his mouth like flowing water, easy and smooth. “The first time or the second?”
“Both.”
He smiles at me, a little bit tight-lipped, but he’s mostly pulling off a pretty good I-give-no-fucks expression. “Are you going to tell me? Should I guess? Or were you just making an observation?”
“You don’t want him to know.”
He huffs. “What are you talking about? The films?”
Interesting. It’s been eleven years and yet that memory is so fresh, his mind goes there immediately.
“Cort knows about the films. He used to enjoy watching them with me when he was small. He’s an animal. He came that way. He will die that way.”
“Maybe,” I answer back. Cort is not an animal. He did not come that way and he will not die that way either.
Cort did not watch snuff films with Udulf. I know this for a fact because Cort does not remember what happened to him. He has repressed it. He has made up some other situation to account for it. The bathhouse nightmare is the stand in. It is bad, but it’s something his mind can deal with. It’s something he can understand. Watching your sister be skinned alive—nope. That’s an experience that deserves to be forgotten. And if Udulf showed him a snuff film, the memory could come back. There was a chance.
And that would never do.
Not when Cort was winning.
Udulf watches me carefully. Maybe wondering where all this is going.
How many men on this planet own fighters in the Ring of Fire?
Eight? Ten? Maybe twelve.
It’s not easy to turn a small boy into a grown-up killer so ruthless he makes it all the way to twenty-seven.
I know this now. I know this better than Udulf does. I’ve seen it all first hand.
They all want to be there. They all want the opportunity to win those prizes. They all want their stable of little boys in the camps and harems of little girls in their bedrooms.
And both Lazar and Udulf made it.
Udulf would never admit this, but Lazar gave it away that night on the Bull of Light.
They need these warriors.
They are nothing without them.
Lazar mourned the loss of Pavo. Maybe he’s got another fighter on his way up, but I doubt it.
Udulf, on the other hand, had Maart in his back pocket.
His secret weapon to wield in a pinch.
And Udulf has definitely found himself in a pinch.
“Did you know that you were the reason I stopped talking?”
Udulf laughs, places a hand over his heart, his gray eyes dancing. Eyes that could be twins of Cort’s, but aren’t. Because Cort’s eyes don’t carry that kind of malice. “I must’ve made a big impact on you.”
“Oh, you did.”
We stare at each other for a moment. I have, obviously, learned the value of silence over the years. And he’s an expert in it. So there is a long pause in our conversation.
Finally, he says, “Is there more? Or was that it?”
“I know who Cort is.”
“Well, my Cort is a lot of things.”
“Or should I say… I know who he was.”
Udulf’s eyebrow lifts up.
“He was in that movie. That one you showed me.”
Udulf’s smile gets tight.
“He was running through a shipyard filled with containers. And those containers were filled with children. And those children were… what?” This is a real question because my mind is unable to comprehend how these devils think. “What were they to you and Lazar and the others that night? Just… meat?”
Udulf says nothing.
“Just a game?”
He forces a smile.
“Like a deer in the woods?”
“You’re getting closer.”
“You and Lazar killed a little girl in that film. It took me a while to piece together who she was. Because even though Cort has nightmares about that night, he doesn’t really remember it. He doesn’t really remember Lazar, either.” Once again, we pause time and stare at each other. “But I do. How could I forget? You played that film on repeat for hours.”
“Did you tell him?”
“Do you think I told him?”
Udulf laughs. “That last meeting at the base camp would’ve been a bloodbath if you had.”
“I know how to keep a secret, Udulf van Hauten. And I have kept yours for over a decade now.”
“Come now, child.” He tsks his tongue. “It’s not like you ever had a chance to tell Cort anything until four months ago.”
I shrug. “I didn’t tell Lazar I knew either.”
“Of course you didn’t. You’re a survivor, Anya Bokori. You know when to hold a card close. You understand better than most that the moment of illumination is almost never the time to throw that card down.” He flips a hand in the air. “But your opportunity is gone now. You missed it, nyuszi. You’re never going to get close enough to Cort again to spill my secrets. He is no threat to me. He never has been. He’s going to lose. He’s washed up. Regardless of what I told Lazar, we all know that the only reason Cort won that last fight is because you helped him.”